


Drinking with a Murderer

by ReneeoftheStars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Bounty Hunters, Death, Killing, Murder, Nothing too explicit though, a "shoot up a saloon in the old west" kind of fic, death description, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 10:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeoftheStars/pseuds/ReneeoftheStars
Summary: With her first Jedi kill under her belt, newly inducted Guild member Aurra Sing feels like she's well on her way to being the galaxy's most feared bounty hunter. But she's about to learn what other kinds of people the occupation attracts.





	Drinking with a Murderer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tumblr blog celebrate-the-clone-wars writing Wednesday prompt: Always a bigger fish

Aurra Sing thought nothing of it when a tall figure strolled into the over-crowded cantina. Numerous tall figures had strolled, ducked, scuttled, and lumbered through the doorway over the last hour, each as dangerous as the last, each earning only a cursory glance as she sipped her drink.

And they all kept well away from Aurra’s table.

She reveled in the respect. Or maybe it was caution. Or maybe even disregard. It was difficult to tell; some beings seemed to toast her when they caught her eye, while others deliberately turned their backs to her, or else hurried away when she looked at them. Even here, in this dingy cantina on the dusty moon of some backwater world, they seemed to know who she was.

As it should be. News of her assassination of the Jedi Knight on Biitu had spread faster than she’d imagined, and within a single rotation, Aurra Sing had been contacted with an invitation to join the Bounty Hunter’s Guild.

To be accepted into the Guild at the age of nineteen was practically unheard of, but she took it in stride. She’d already made contacts within the organization; she was scheduled to collect a target with a Mandalorian called Jango Fett at week’s end. The credits of her first few sanctified jobs had finally been transferred, and she’d rewarded herself with an updated scope for her slugthrower rifle and a few other gadgets. The Jedi, a defector from the Pikes, a Corellian dignitary, a runaway slave – all jobs successfully completed.

Credits were rolling, bodies were dropping, and Aurra was the cause of it. She grinned at the thought. She could practically feel herself rising through the ranks, making her name known throughout the galaxy as a bounty hunter to be feared. _Aurra Sing, Jedi-Killer. Aurra Sing, bounty hunter._

A shadow fell across her.

Annoyed, Aurra looked up to see who wanted to test her.

A tall Cerean loomed above her, scarred domed head blotting out the light. The first thing Aurra noted was the eyes – cold and dead-looking. The Cerean’s right eye was so dark a brown it was nearly black; it lay in stark contrast to the white-blue iris of the left. A long white scar ran from eyebrow to pointed chin, seemingly straight through the blue eye, and Aurra found herself wondering if the eye was blind. The domed head ended in a brown topknot, but that wasn’t nearly as impressive as the odd-looking red tattoo taking up the left side of the elongated skull: A small sphere half-encircled by a crescent with a downward angled tail.

They were clad in sparse, mismatched armor: brown shoulder pads extending from neck to shoulder, a chestplate of some kind of hide, gauntlets the color of dried red blood, mere wrappings on their midsection, multi-pocketed pants, and a kneepad/shin-guard wrapped around their right calf. Twin blasters were holstered on either hip, with a third strapped to their left calf. Two visible knives hung from their belt, and a rifle was slung across their back. Tattoos in some sort of script were shown off on their left bicep and right inner arm.

“This seat taken?” the newcomer asked pleasantly, the smile on their face not reaching their eyes.

Wordlessly, Aurra leaned back in her seat and kicked the opposite chair outwards. In one fluid motion the Cerean grabbed it, spun it around, and sat, hunched over the back of the chair and leaning forward conspiratorially.

“So, you’re the baby who killed a Jedi,” the Cerean said.

Aurra bristled, but managed to keep her voice unaffected. She rested her hand casually on the blaster holstered at her side. “If by that you mean the most capable member of the Bounty Hunter’s Guild, then yes.”

“‘Most capable’,” they mused. “Hmmm, I’m not sure about that. Way I heard it, you just snipe your little bounties without seeing the whites of their eyes. Way I figure it, that Jedi must’ve been pretty distracted for you to get a shot off at him. Nothing wrong with being an amateur, sweetheart. Aria Songbird, isn’t it?”

“Sing,” she corrected stiffly. “Aurra Sing. And you are?”

The Cerean tutted. “Don’t even recognize me, eh? Well that’s alright, I don’t take it personally. What’s a kid like you know anyway?” They thumped a hand on their chestplate. “I’m called Ni-Dune.”

The name brought to mind a news story Aurra had glanced at several months back. “The Scourge of Antar.”

“Look at that, you pay attention to the holonet!”

Aurra ignored the jab. “I only remember the moniker. Can’t think of anything notable you did.”

Ni-Dune winked their brown eye, and Aurra judged from the way the blue-white one stayed trained on her that it was not blind. There was still no emotion there. “I did a lot of things on Antar. You should read up on it.” They raised their hand and waved over the bartender.

It was only then that Aurra realized just how quiet their part of the cantina had gotten. There had been a single table separating Aurra from the rest of the patrons; now, there were three. And the rest of the lowlifes nearby were downing their drinks and hastily paying their tabs.

The Chagrian male scrambled over from behind the bar. His stubby lethorns quivered as he came to a halt in front of them, fidgeting with a cloth in his hand. “Y-yes’m?”

“I’ll have a reactor core, straight and tall.” Ni-Dune waved a hand towards Aurra’s drink. “Top you up?”

“I’m good.” Aurra eyed them warily as the bartender scurried away. She had a feeling the Chagrian’s attitude was in response to Ni-Dune, not herself. Maybe this character was more dangerous than Aurra had assumed.

“I haven’t seen your name in the Guild’s roster,” she broached.

“You wouldn’t, since it’s not there.”

Aurra bent her long legs to prop her foot up on the edge of the table, getting the idea that she might need to topple the heavy furniture into her conversation partner if things started going south. “So if you’re not a bounty hunter, what are you?”

“I like to think of myself as a freelancer.” Their eyes studied the position of Aurra’s boot. “I do hope you’re not trying to be subtle, Songbird. Cuz you’re really doing an awful job.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“At least you have defiance. That bodes well for you. Me, I can’t stand beings who scrape and grovel.” Resting an elbow on the chair back, Ni-Dune cradled their chin in their palm. Their tone turned thoughtful as they gazed at her. “It’s such a nice feeling, isn’t it?”

Aurra waited.

“What you’re feeling right now. You think that because your first few bounties went off without a hitch, because you got paid and you’ve got some people scared of you, you think you’ve got it made. You think you’re top of the food chain. You think you’re the best bounty hunter in the galaxy. You think you’re the galaxy’s foremost Jedi killer.”

“Maybe not yet,” Aurra allowed. “But soon enough.”

Something caught her eye. Over Ni-Dune’s shoulder, the bartender was frantically mixing the reactor core, but as he did, he reached for something beneath the countertop. Aurra’s long fingers clenched around her blaster, ready to draw it –

The bartender withdrew another alcohol-filled bottle and set it on the counter. Realizing there was no threat, she relaxed her grip again.

“You’ve got good instincts.”

Aurra’s eyes flicked back to Ni-Dune, who had begun drumming a finger on the back of the chair.

“That’ll serve you well, keep you alive longer. Though you should really learn to not second-guess yourself. What if he’s trying to poison my drink?”

Her brows contracted, eyes darting around to see how the kriff the Cerean had seen –

Outside the smudged window behind her, the sky was rapidly darkening. Against the dark backdrop, reflections from inside the cantina were sharply pronounced. Aurra rolled her eyes at the realization and release her blaster, taking another drink. “Then that’s your business.”

“And the smarts to not get involved,” Ni-Dune noted.

Aurra glared at them. “What do you want?”

A smile played at the corners of their mouth. “Just to offer you some advice, sweetheart. You think you’re a bona-fide bounty hunter now, a hotshot Jedi killer. And I’m here to tell you that you don’t know who you’re competing with. You’re a tiny bird in a massive galaxy, and if you’re not careful, something much bigger than you is going to decide you’re not worth the oxygen.”

Aurra deliberately lowered her glass. “Is that so?”

“Just a statement, Songbird, not a threat. But if you’re determined to try to play with the rest of us, you’re going to have to have something more going for you than sniping. Oh, it’s impressive, of course – I don’t have great long-distance aim myself. But it’s not really _killing_ , you know? To be the very last thing someone sees before you just –” they made a sudden fist “ – snuff them out. It’s a powerful feeling, kid, to just be _able_ to kill. Not just because you were paid, but because you _can_.”

“So that’s your advice?” Aurra asked incredulously. “Watch my step, and kill for fun?”

The Chagrian hurried back to their table, hands trembling so badly that a few drops of the reactor core splashed out of the elongated glass and landed on his forearms with a hiss. He barely seemed to notice, setting the glass down in front of Ni-Dune and hopping back two paces before wiping his sweating hands on his apron and asking, “An-anything else I – I can do for you?”

“No,” Aurra said, at the same moment Ni-Dune said “Yes.”

Something was wrong. Ni-Dune’s eyes no longer looked dead. Instead, they seemed to have some small spark in them; a calculating, shrewd gleam that sent adrenaline coursing through Aurra’s body.

“Join us,” Ni-Dune said graciously, pulling a chair around from a nearby table. “Sit.”

If the barkeep had been shaking before, he was positively quaking now. “Uh- I re- I really outta get b-back to the b-bar.” He attempted to clear his throat. “I uh, ahem, I, you know, gotta –”

“No you don’t,” Ni-Dune interrupted. “Sit.”

Jelly-legged, the barkeep sat.

Ni-Dune picked up the tall glass, toasted Aurra and the barkeep, and took a long drink. Exhaling sharply, they set it down on the empty table behind them.

“Songbird, that is exactly the advice I’m giving you. You can be a successful bounty hunter without having people fear you, of course... but what's the fun in that? Playing by the Guild's rules is so limiting – they're out to run a business, not to –” they paused, searching for the right word, “– they don't much care for their agents' personal philosophies.”

Aurra's skin prickled, and she began to slowly unholster her blaster. “And what's your personal philosophy?”

A slow, genuine smile spread across Ni-Dune's face, and their eyes came alive with excitement. “That it's my job to help expedite death. However I can. Wherever I can.”

They stood.

In a single motion, Ni-Dune had drawn their two blasters and whirled around, aiming at the closest patrons.

Aurra kicked the table over as she yanked out her blaster,. The barkeep fell back with a cry of fright, and Aurra hunkered down behind the table, but held her fire as she watched, wide-eyed.

The two humans didn't have a moment to scream before smoking holes appeared in their heads. By the time they hit the floor, the rest of the lowlifes were on their feet, shrieking and bellowing. Some ran for the door, some threw themselves behind tables, others drew their own weapons.

None of them stood a chance.

Red blasterfire rained down on the beings that had aimed their own blasters, dropping them like sacks of rocks, sending desperate last-moment bolts careening into fleeing people. A series of shots at the door sent them skittering away for cover, but there was nowhere to hide.

Shot after shot, patrons screamed and died, bodies piling on the floor as Ni-Dune stepped over them, humming as they picked them off, one by one. At last, only a Rodian remained. He cowered beneath a table, and as Ni-Dune walked towards him, scrambled on all fours behind the bar and out of sight. Ni-Dune aimed, pulled the trigger –

_Click_ .

With an exaggerated eye-roll, Ni-Dune cast the empty blasters aside. Drawing one of the knives from their belt, they stepped behind the bar and squatted down. Aurra couldn't see it, but she heard the sound of the blade passing through the Rodian's throat. 

Her hands still clenched vice-like around her blaster, Aurra stared at the carnage as Ni-Dune straightened, still humming as they carelessly wiped the bloody knife on their pantleg. The Scourge of Antar checked the bodies as they made their way back, pausing to take a fine-looking blaster from a Gand, and to stab a human in the chest as their fingers twitched. 

Ni-Dune stopped a few feet from the table Aurra crouched behind, and made no move to come any closer. Aurra aimed her blaster carefully right between the killer's eyes, hands eerily steady despite the adrenaline pumping in her blood. The eyes weren't dead-looking now; they were alive, and bright, and gleeful.

Ni-Dune reached over plucked their drink from the table and took another long swing. Smacking their lips, they refocused on her. “Think careful, kid.” They didn't sound too concerned. “I've got more hearts and brains than your average prey. You gotta hit them all to kill me. Do you want to take the chance?”

How many hearts? Where? Where both brains in the skull? Or was Ni-Dune bluffing? She didn't know anything about Cerean physiology, and even if she did – could she hit all their vital organs before they could get a single shot off on her? Aurra weighed her options, and didn't like any of them. Ignoring every instinct that screamed at her to take the shot, Aurra lowered her blaster, and pushed herself to her feet. 

“Smart. Why don't you go ahead take the last one?”

Aurra stared back uncertainly, not sure what Ni-Dune was –

A whimper to the right answered her.

The barkeep was curled on the ground, arms raised around their head. Tears and snot streamed down his face as he forced his eyes open and found Aurra standing over him.

“P-p-please,” he blubbered. “T-t-t-take whatev- whatever you want. J-ust let me go! _Please_!”

The pathetic Chagrian dissolved into sobs, and disgust rose up in Aurra.

Leveling her blaster at him, she paused, staring down at the crumpled form. He must have heard her blaster prime, because he stared up at her, pupils dilated, red veins popping in the whites of his eyes. She saw herself reflected in his eyes.

She fired.

His head hit the floor with a thunk as his body shuddered once, then went still.

“I like you, Songbird.” 

Ni-Dune had come up right behind her. It took everything Aurra had not to whip around shoot them. “I think you've got serious potential. You might even be real Jedi-Killer material. You've got all the right traits for it.” They jerked their head toward the bar. “Help yourself to whatever's in the safe. I'll stick with the patron's goods.”

Feeling oddly stiff, Aurra picked her way across the mess of corpses. Sliding behind the bar, she glanced at the remains of the Rodian and turned away, grimacing. None of her kills had been been that messy. 

Yet.

The credit chips in the safe filled her coin purse to bursting, and by the time she'd loaded it all, the stiff feeling in her joints had melted away, replaced by a tingling sensation. The same sort of tingling she got when she'd shot the Jedi on Biitu. Ni-Dune had a point: there was something different about a close-up kill. It certainly was... powerful. 

Ni-Dune was still rifling through pockets and bags when Aurra reemerged, humming as they went. Aurra hovered by the doorway, watching. 

“You go on ahead, sweetheart,” Ni-Dune called. “I've got to take in my kill to collect my bounty, so this is where we part ways.”

“You – had a bounty?”

They pointed to a human in a pilot's flightsuit. “Skipped out one too many payments to Jabba the Hutt.”

“Then –” Aurra stared at the mass of bodies. “Why make all this trouble for yourself?”

Ni-Dune looked up from the blaster they were examining and grinned. “Because it's fun.”

Aurra couldn't think of anything to say to that. So she secured her coin purse tighter and pushed open the door. Night had completely fallen, the dusty landscape cold and uninviting. She spotted her ship on the landing platform half a mile away, and stepped outside. 

Before the door swung shut behind her, she heard the Scourge of Antar stop humming long enough to call, “Until next time, Songbird! I'll be seeing you around.”


End file.
